


Salted Lacerations

by EridiumForUncensored



Series: Salted Lacerations [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal, Angst, BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Gay, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm starving, M/M, Multi, Oral, Other, Please read my fanfic, Porn With Plot, Rhys's Noodle, Rimming, Smut, Strangulation, Stripper rhys, Sugar Baby Rhys, Sugar Daddy Jack, daddy zer0, janey and athena fluff, otp, rhack - Freeform, soft axton, toe sucking, what plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EridiumForUncensored/pseuds/EridiumForUncensored
Summary: Rhys is an ordinary stripper on Helios looking for a sugar daddy when he finds none other than Handsome Jack. But an accident on the space station sends Rhys down to Pandora and puts him into a world of trouble. Will Handsome Jack be able to save his sugar baby?Meanwhile, a gOOD HOT SEXY Pandoran bandit robs a train.This is my first fic pls read





	1. It's Always Sunny On Pandora pt.1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kane Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kane+Shepard), [TheThinWhiteDude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThinWhiteDude/gifts).



───── $$$ ─────

** SALTED LACERATIONS **

**It's Always Sunny On Pandora(pt.1)**

 

     Sun rays distorted the vast plateaus and canyons in the distance. Orange ripples of dirt blew over the el-train tracks where a bandit technical sat parked a few meters away.  
Kashmere stood alongside the bandit technical, accompanied by two other bandits. One stood alongside him, his red fabric mask tied around his face and his bare hand pressed against the scorching metal hood of the technical.  
     "C'mon, Clement! Ten seconds more an' you'll beat your record." Kashmere encouraged.  
Clement groaned with pain then finally jerked his hand off the technical with a breath of relief. Kashmere's eyebrows creased with disappointment, "C'mon dude, you had it..."  
Clement shot him a glare as he rubbed his burned palm, "It's hot as shit, Kash! You try it."  
     "Me?" Kashmere widened his eyes and gestured to himself, "No, man. I-I can't. I'll lose instantly. You're much better at this game than I am."  
     "You're scared of getting your hand burned? I thought you were just scared of spiders." Clement fixed his glove back onto his hand.  
     "I'm not _scared_ of either. I'm more of uh...rationally concerned." Kashmere pulled his fingerless glove from his hand and slapped it down onto the hood of the technical. He hovered his hand above the hood of the technical when a snicker escaped Clement, "There's a spider on your vest."  
     Kashmere yelped and jumped back, "Get it off!" He demanded as his frantic eyes searched himself. Clement's laughter threw him off, "You're so stupid, Kash!"  
     Kashmere glared back at him, then fixed his vest back into place, "Don't even joke about that. Honestly, I---I just wanna shoot you now." Kashmere put his hand back over the hood of the technical and prepared himself.  
     The second bandit sitting to the side of the technical let out a mocking chuckle, bringing the binoculars away from the red lenses of his mask, "You guys are fricken idiots."  
     "Why not take a break from watching for the train and come watch Kash fight imaginary spiders?" Clement suggested, his fingers still rubbing the pain from his gloved palm.  
     Kashmere snickered at Clement's suggestion, "Yeah, exploit my fear for your own sick entertainment."  
Tim dropped his binoculars, letting them hang from his neck as he stood and faced the other two, "I just wanna be ready for when the train _does_ come. I mean, we're racing against Krushnor. How mad's he gonna git when he finds out we ripped off his idear of robbing a train?"  
Kashmere lifted his hand away from the hood to fix his snapback into place, "He wouldn't even know. I told you; by the time he derails the train, we'll have the loot. He'll think there wasn't anything on it. We're good. This doesn't have any risk to it—except for maybe ending up under the train, but that'd be your fault. So don't do that."  
     Tim crossed his arms as he watched Kashmere place his hand back over the technical's hood, "You're the one who dragged us out here. I'm surprised you ain't more into this."  
     Kashmere's eyes widened, "Oh my God, you're right." He grabbed his glove off the technical and pulled it on, "I'm sorry, Clemmy. This is serious business. I cant be fooling around now." He gave Clement a pat on his shoulder before walking towards the train track.  
     "Don't call me that." Clement demanded, "That's really—really weird."  
Kashmere stepped up to the train track before turning on his heels to face the other two bandits, "So, we set on what we're gonna do, right?" He asked, clasping his hands together, "Clement drives alongside the train while me an' Tim hop on, bully the passengers into giving us their money, then hop off."  
     Tim nodded, "I like it."  
     "This seems too simple." Clement crossed his arms, "What're you gonna do if there's loader bots on the train? Or turrets, or if the passengers are ex-Hyperion soldiers or something?"  
     "I'm sure me an' Tim can handle it. We're pretty uh...skillful guys." Kashmere glanced at Tim.  
     "I'm skillful in more than one way, actually." Tim raised his chin with pride. Kashmere's green eyes stared back at Tim, looking him up and down with an awkward gaze, "Yeah, I bet you are."  
     "Yeah! I am!" Tim glanced to his side at Clement, "Why would you ever underestimate me? I'm basically a Vault Hunter!"  
     "I never said you weren't." Clement stated with a glance at Tim.  
Tim raised an accusing finger in front of Clement's face, "You were thinking it, dick."  
Kashmere stood with his arms crossed, watching the other two with a smirk of amusement plastered on his face.  
Tim's gaze turned from Clement to Kashmere, "What're you laughing about, skaglick?"  
Kashmere opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted by Clement pointing down the track with his chin, "There's the train."  
Tim and Kashmere both snapped their heads down the track, seeing the slick, Hyperion-model locomotive rushing towards them. Both Tim and Kashmere let out a scream of surprise before the three of them scrambled for the technical. Clement hoisted himself into the driver's seat as the other two climbed over the hood and positioned themselves in the back, Tim on the turret and Kashmere in the technical's bed.  
     Kashmere moved his mask from the side of his head to his face before grabbing a duffel back from the metal floor and strapping it to his shoulder. The technical's tires spun in the sand for a short moment before the car burst into full speed, keeping align with the train track. The three of them braced themselves as the train sped past and a loud swoosh clogged their ears.  
     Kashmere turned to Tim who was aligning the turret with the train, "Any day now, shit stain!"  
     "I'm on it!" Tim shouted back over the sound of the train. He pressed down on the trigger and the technical buckled to the left as a sawblade with a wire wielded to its top lodged itself into the train's side. The technical's tires strained against the speed of the train until finally the technical was spun around, being dragged by the turret. Kashmere and Tim gripped hold of the railings, worried croaks escaping their mouths.  
     Clement looked over his shoulder at the two, "We're uh—kinda being dragged backwards, guys!"  
Tim growled under his breath as Kashmere scanned the train in thought, "Nice job, Clement! Want a gold star for figuring that out?" Tim spat at Clement.  
     "Was just saying..." Clement answered, turning forward, "But if you got any gold star stickers, I'll take them."  
     Kashmere shot to his feet, hoisting himself up over the turret and onto the hood of the technical, "Get on the train, Tim! I got an idea."  
     Tim cocked his head at Kashmere for a short moment before letting go of the turret and clasping his hands onto the wire. Kashmere held onto the railing of the cockpit, easing himself down towards the technical's winch.  
     Clement stared at Kashmere with a confused look, "What're you doing?"  
Kashmere grasped onto the hook of the winch and pulled it up, "Turning the car around, duh!" He lapped the wire around his waist and hooked it at the front, "The sawblade's not gonna last anyway."  
     Tim hoisted himself onto the train, then turned and reached an arm out to help Kashmere up from the wire. With Tim's help, Kashmere pulled himself up onto the roof of the train and unhooked the wire from his waist. He looped it around the railing outlining the train's roof, then kicked the sawblade from the train's side. The wheels screeched as the technical was turned forwards again.  
     A smile spread underneath Kashmere's mask and he brushed his hands off, "See? I'm brilliant!" His sentence was cut short by the train shuddering, throwing off his balance and making him scramble for the railing. He looked back to the technical where Clement was holding a thumbs up out from the window. Kashmere returned the gesture, then turned his focus back on-task.  
     After adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder, Kashmere grabbed hold of his hat before the speed of the train blew it off. With their hands on the railings, Tim and Kashmere made their way towards the edge of the boxcar, struggling against the hot winds wailing against them.

     Kashmere crouched at the edge of the boxcar, staring down at the thin metal catwalk underneath. He gritted at the dirt blurring from the speed below the train.  
     "Well?" Tim asked, standing above Kashmere with his hand set on the railing, "Any day now, shit stain."  
Kashmere glanced over his shoulder, scorning at Tim, "I'll drop-kick you off this train, dick breath." He eased himself down, the catwalk rattling underneath his boots as he landed. Tim followed behind as Kashmere hopped over to the catwalk of the other boxcar. Kashmere wrapped his hand around the latch of the door, pulling it out a little from the door frame when the thought of loader bots waiting at the other side crept into his mind.  
     He turned to Tim, "Actually, I think it'd be better if you went first." He gestured at the door and stepped out of the way.  
     Tim's head tilted, "Why?" He demanded.  
     Kashmere pulled his pistol from the holster, readying it as he began speaking, "Well, I just thought that since you're obviously the scarier of us two. What—with your red eyes an' cool SMG an' stuff—they'll be begging for us to take their money an' leave them alone." He traced his finger up and down the barrel of his pistol, then looked up at Tim, "I could be like your goofy, young, naive sidekick. You'll be the cool guy. The one in charge."  
     Tim nodded with approval, "I like it! Perfect plan." He swung his SMG off his shoulder then brought his boot up and kicked open the door. It banged against the wall of the passenger boxcar, startling the Hyperion workers sitting at the cushioned benches inside. Tim raised his gun and walked in, Kashmere followed as soon as he decided it was safe.  
     "Hand over your money!" Tim demanded, his voice hushing the panicked cries of the workers.  
      Kashmere stepped up beside him, his pistol rested down at his side, "You're supposed to say something cooler than that, you fricken idiot."  
      Tim glanced back at him, "Shut up, skaglick."  
      Kashmere's attention turned to the Hyperion passengers as one spoke up, his hands raised and his dark eyebrows creased with worry, "W-we don't have anything!"  
      Kashmere lowered his pistol for a short moment as his eyes scanned the workers; all neatly groomed, unscathed, and in Hyperion-issued office suits. He chewed his lip before Tim interrupted his thoughts.  
     "Really?" Tim began, "A bunch of Hyperion skaglicks leaving Pandora after Jack died, and you telling us you got nothing?"  
     Kashmere took a few steps forward and Tim followed behind, making the Hyperion workers scoot towards the windows with nervousness, "No family heirlooms? No jewelry? Not even just money for the trip?" Kashmere asked.  
     Another passenger raised his hand, "I uh...have trading cards." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a deck of cards and staring down at them with sullen eyes. Kashmere shrugged, "Okay whatever—We'll take them." He stepped up to the passenger. The Hyperion passenger stared at him with watery eyes as he dropped the cards into the duffel bag, "Please...have mercy."  
     Kashmere adjusted his grip on the bag, then turned to the rest of the passengers as Tim had his gun trained towards them.  
     The passengers pulled out the little bit of cash and expensive trinkets they had, handing it over as Kashmere walked down the boxcar. He stopped at the far side where a woman sat pulling cash from her wallet. His eyes moved to her earrings, gold in color and decorated with swirled designs. He brought one hand up to them, holding them up with his finger, "Oh! Where'd you get these?"  
     She pulled herself away from him with a scorn on her face, "My husband bought them." She answered, denying eye contact.  
     "Is that real gold?" Kashmere asked, leaning in for a better look.  
     "No." She gave a quick, shaky response.  
     Kashmere stood straight again, then presented the duffel bag to her, "Give them to me anyway, 'cause they're really nice. I could give them to a girl or something, or to myself."  
     She gave him a glare, then sighed with hesitation before pulling the earrings from her ears and dropping them into the bag.  
     Kashmere smiled at her from under his mask, "Thank you so much. It's hard to find people as generous as you these days." He zipped the duffel bag closed, then slung it over his shoulder and made his way back to Tim, "That's it! We're done. Thank you all for being so patient with us. I _swear_ your donations will be put to good use."  
     Tim was about to turn and head out with Kashmere when his gaze caught onto the Hyperion woman at the far end. She lunged towards the wall, her eyes set on an emergency button.  
     "Hey!" Tim shouted, but before she could react he raised his SMG and pressed the trigger. The passengers let out cries of panic as gunfire erupted through the boxcar and bullets tore through the woman's chest. Her head smacked against the wall before she landed on the floor, blood soaking into the grey of her dress.  
     Kashmere stared at Tim in disbelief, "Jesus, Tim! What's your problem?"  
     Tim turned his head over his shoulder at Kashmere, "What'd you mean? She was gonna call for help!"  
     Kashmere's eyes darted at the panicked faces of the passengers. He took in a breath, "When Krushnor derails the train and tries to rob these idiots, an' he sees one of them is dead on the floor already, do you think he's gonna believe they just didn't have anything on them? 'Cause I think he'd suspect the three shit-for-brains who flunked outta his gang probably had something to do with it."  
     Tim lowered his SMG, "What was I gonna do, let her call loader bots on us?"  
     Kashmere thought for a moment, "Yeah, you got me there."  
     He put one hand on the strap of the duffel bag and was about to step out when the woman at the far end raised her head. She looked up at the emergency button, tilting her head and gritting with pain as she raised her hand to press it. Her hand slapped against it and a loud siren blasted through the train, echoing through Kashmere's and Clement's eardrums and sending them into a panic.  
     The two scurried up to the roof of the boxcar, the ladder underneath rattled with their footsteps. Tim shoved past Kashmere, hurrying to get himself over the railing to jump for the technical.  
     Kashmere's gaze turned towards the front of the train. The tracks lifted from the cliff's drop off and stretched to the other side of the canyon. Kashmere grabbed onto Tim's shoulder and pulled him back as he realized there wasn't enough time for them to jump off before the train slid off the edge of the cliff. Tim scowled as Kashmere undid the wire, letting it whizz back to the technical's wench and stopping the car from being dragged over the cliff. Clement slammed the brakes, turning the technical and spinning it to a stop just at the cliff's edge.  
     Tim staggered to his feet, gripping the railing for support. He let out an agitated groan, "Nice going, skaglick. Our ride's gone now."  
     Kashmere leaned over the edge, staring down at the drop below to the bottom of the canyon, "Oh I think it would've been gone anyway."  
     Kashmere was interrupted by the boxcar door below them bursting from its hinges and falling down into the canyon. The two bandits turned their head towards the end of the train at a loaderbot hoisting itself up from between two boxcars. Tim raised his SMG and Kashmere pulled his pistol from his holster as the loaderbot stood straight, a machine gun bolted into one of its hands.  
     "Removing bandits--" It's monotone voice was put to a halt by the bandits' bullets. Tim's SMG rounds punctured small holes into its armour and Kashmere's pistol tore through the wiring at its limbs. The loaderbot staggered a few steps backwards, sparks flying from the bullet holes and oil pooling down underneath it.  
     "Ow." It said before falling backwards off the train. Kashmere and Tim looked over the railing as the loader bot dropped to the canyon below.  
     "Hell, that's it?" Tim asked, "That's easy."  
     Kashmere opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by three more loader bots coming from the front of the train.  
     Kashmere let out a nervous chuckle, "I'm not taking on three of those, bye." He told Tim before taking off towards the other end of the boxcar.  
     "Kash!" Tim called back, but Kashmere was already beginning to climb down between the boxcars.  
     The loader bots stepped forward, positioning themselves so each one had a clear shot of the two bandits, "Target death imminent." One said before the three of them let their bullets fly towards the bandits.  
     Both Tim and Kashmere cried out as the bullets deflected off their shields. Tim retaliated with his SMG as he hurried backwards towards Kashmere who was ducking into the next boxcar. Kashmere shut the boxcar door behind him and leaned against a stack of Hyperion crates strapped to the floor. His breathing was rapid and blood pulsed in his ears. He glanced at the boxcar door for a short moment before turning to the crates and tugging against the straps. Pulling a knife from the straps of his boot, he cut the crates free and began moving them towards the door.

     The boxcar door opening caught him off-guard and he flinched, turning his head to see Tim scrambling in with a panic. Tim shut the door behind him before the loader bots could follow.  
     "The Hell's wrong with you?" Tim shouted.  
     Kashmere ignored his question and pushed Tim out of the way as he dragged the stack of crates towards the door, "Hey Tim, do me a real solid and go block the other door, 'aight?"  
     Tim let out a groan of agitation as he walked over to the other side of the boxcar. Once he finished blocking the door, he turned to see Kashmere on the floor shoving dollar bills into his hat with the duffel bag unzipped wide on the floor.  
     "What're you doing?" Tim questioned, adjusting his grip on his SMG.  
     "Your mom." Kashmere answered, keeping his gaze trained on the money.  
     Tim stepped to Kashmere, pressing the end of his SMG underneath Kashmere's chin and forcing him to his feet. Kashmere's hands came up in surrender.  
     "Don't be a smartass," Tim began, "Why're you putting the loot in your hat?"  
     "Jeeze, Tim! What's wrong with you?" Kashmere demanded, "I'm splitting the loot so if one of us gets shot, not all of it's lost. Put the gun down! Killing me puts all the pressure on you!"  
     Tim pushed the SMG further under Kashmere's chin, pressing into his skin and making him raise his head with discomfort, "You tried to get me killed by the loader bots back there so you and Clement can get the loot to yourselves!"  
     Kashmere's eyebrows furled with denial. Lowering his hands, he took a step back, "No—no not at all, actually." He attempted to push the SMG away with one hand but Tim swatted his hand away and trained the SMG back onto him. Kashmere gave a nervous chuckle and continued, "I apologize sincerely for ditching you with the loader bots. I wasn't intending to do that."  
     "Stop using big words, asshole!" Tim shouted back above the sound of the loader bots banging against the door, "It don't matter now 'cause I beat you at your own game! I'm taking the loot and you're dying, you lying, cheating asshole!"  
     Tim sent the butt of his SMG slamming against Kashmere's temple, knocking him off his feet. Dazed, Kashmere struggled to get up when Tim's boot smashed down on the shield latched to his hip. A shudder of blue waved through Kashmere's body as his shield shattered underneath Tim's heel. Kashmere whipped his pistol from his holster and rolled to the side just as the SMG's bullets ripped through the air where he just was laying. Chest beating, Kashmere scrambled to his feet. He brought the pistol to Tim and pulled the trigger. Tim let out a cry and dropped his SMG as the bullet lodged itself deep in his abdomen. Tim clenched his stomach, falling to his knees with a heavy, pained breath.  
     Kashmere lowered his arm, "You scared the shit outta me!" His words barely forming under his rapid breathing. He looked down at the pistol, "The bullets go through shields. Pretty cheap, I know, but fricken awesome."  
     As Kashmere's adrenaline drained from his blood, a searing pain jolted through his arm making him clench his shoulder with one hand. He looked down at his shoulder, noticing the blood soaking through his shirt and vest and trickling between his fingers. He pulled his hand away with disbelief, staring down at the heavy, deep crimson blood smeared over his hand.  
     "Shit..." He mumbled to himself, suddenly overcome with a sensation of lightheadedness. He focused back on Tim who was struggling back to his feet. Kashmere's heart jumped in a state of panic and he raised his pistol again, sending four more bullets towards Tim's head and torso. Tim let out cry in pain before falling backwards onto the floor, streaks of blood pooling to one side of the boxcar as the train sped up.  
     "Jeeze, that's a mess." Kashmere's nose crinkled with disgust as he stared at Tim's body.  
His sentence was brought short by the sound of loader bots banging against the doors. Kashmere hurried to the money spread across the boxcar. He grabbed his cap off the floor and picked the cash up from around it. Setting the cap on his head, Kashmere made sure no money was sticking from under it and the rim was at his preferred angle.  
     Cradling his shoulder, Kashmere knelt beside Tim and pulled the shield from Tim's side. The shield beeped and a wave of blue flashed over his body as he snapped the shield on his hip and scrambled towards the side door of the boxcar. He looked back at Tim and the duffel bag filled with worthless trinket and jewelry too hard to wear under his hat before undoing the latch on the side door. Opening it just enough to fit himself through, he prepared himself to jump. His gaze set on a pit stop at the side of a road the train was heading towards just a few meters from the track. Grasping his hat, Kashmere let go of the latch and made a jump for it...

───── $$$ ─────  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOH THIS IS HOW YOU PUT NOTES ON INDIVIDUAL CHAPTERS lol rip whoops ok well don't forget to join my minecraft server


	2. It's Always Sunny on Pandora pt.2

───── $$$ ─────  

  **SALTED LACERATIONS**

**It's Always Sunny On Pandora (part 2)**

     Pain shot up Kashmere's feet as he hit the ground and lurched forward, tumbling through the dirt for a short moment until finally coming to a halt on his stomach.  
     Air brushed the tail of his vest up as the train sped past him. Hand still resting on his cap, he turned his head to the train's tail already heading towards the distant mountains. With a groan, Kashmere sat up and once again fixed his hat into place. His gaze turned to his wounded shoulder. Blood oozed from the bullet wound, soaking into his clothes and discolouring the brown of his vest.  
     Kashmere let out a sigh, "You suck, Tim." He spat out before struggling to his feet.  
     The pitstop stood a few meters away, set alongside a paved road, littered with cracks and faded to a light brown. A building made up of scrap metal and drywall stood accompanied by a Catch-A-Ride system. The windows were lined with broken glass. The door was kicked in off it's hinges, and the walls were littered with symbols and profanity drawn with a sickening red colour. Kashmere's eyes trained on the Dr. Zed vending machine pressed up against the wall and his face lit up. He hurried over, stumbling over his feet from the lightheadedness set in his mind. Wiping his blooded hand on his pant leg, he pressed his other hand onto the vending machine and winced in pain as more blood rushed from the bullet wound. Kashmere pulled a dollar bill from under his cap and pressed the selection on the vending machines.  
_"_ _Welcome to_ _Doctor_ _Zed's portable clinic--"_ The vending machine's greeting was cut short by Kashmere's fingers pressing against the health vial selection.  
      "Thanks so much for putting this shit here, Zed! Definitely gonna suck you off now." Kashmere promised as he shoved the dollar bill into the slot. The vending machine sputtered for a moment before spitting the dollar back out, then repeating it's greeting, _"Welcome to_ _Doctor_ _Zed's portable clinic--"_  
      "Oh God, no." Kashmere breathed out with panic as he attempted to shove the dollar bill back into the slot, only to have the machine fail once more, "Please, Zed! Don't do this to me!" He begged, trying a different dollar bill only to have the same result. He let out a cry of frustration and sent the front of his boot slamming against the vending machine just as it was repeating its greeting. The impact made the machine shudder and the greeting repeat itself in a loop. Kashmere buried his face into the vending machine and let out a scream before pulling the pistol from his holster, "Shut up, Zed!" He demanded, shooting at the machine. The bullet ricocheted from the now quiet machine and sped between his legs, making him jump and scream out in surprise.  
     He slid down onto the ground, "Why won't you just take my money?" He asked the machine, crouching still on the ground whimpering with grief. Finally he rolled over onto his backside and leaned against the machine, "I hate you, Zed. Shitty-ass doctor..." He pulled the knife from the straps of his boot and gripped the handle with white knuckles, figuring he should attempt to push the bullet from his wound, "Stupid, old, wrinkled ballsack Dr. Zed..." He mumbled to himself as he brought his shaking hand nearer to the bullet wound. Wincing in pain, he pressed the knife to the side of the wound. His shaky hand causing more blood to ooze. He held the knife still for a moment, hesitating to shove it into the bullet hole. Finally his hand gave out and dropped to the ground. Instead, he cut the collar of his shirt down to the bottom and pulled it out from under his vest. Wincing in pain, he wrapped the shirt around his shoulder and torso, pulling on it to tighten it. A tired breath escaped his mouth and he let his head loll back onto the machine. Upon impact with his head, the machine repeated itself, _"_ _Welcome to Doctor Zed's portable clinic! What can I get for 'ya?"_  
     "Get me a noose." Kashmere answered.

     Distant sounds of bandit technical engines made Kashmere raise his head. He squinted his eyes against the sun as he stared down the train track at three technicals driving side-by-side. Bandits hung off the sides, screaming and banging their buzzaxes against the technicals' blood-tainted shells. On the turret of the middle technical sat Krushnor; a large man with scrap metal strapped to his body. His arms were free from fabric, revealing the dark muscle tone underneath. Skulls and bones hung from the horns of the heavy, metal helmet that covered his face.  
     The technicals' engines revved, and their wheels angled themselves towards Kashmere who let out a nervous sigh, "Oh no..."  
     Kashmere's hand pressed against the dollar bill laying on the ground and he shoved it underneath the vending machine as the three technicals pulled up.  
     "Where's my money, skaglick?" Krushnor demanded, the technical lowering to the side with his mass as his spiked boots stepped to the ground. The small gang of bandits stayed behind on the technicals, hanging from the sides and watching with eagerness as Krushnor took a step towards Kashmere.  
     "Your money's on the train," Kashmere answered, still sitting against the vending machine, "You missed it."  
     "Bullshit! My scout saw you jump off the train! Yous got it!" Krushnor's stubby finger raised to Kashmere with accusation. His other hand had a tight grip on a shotgun decorated with spikes and bones.  
     Kashmere's hands raised in surrender, "No—no course not! You think I'm some cheating, disloyal bastard?"  
     "I's think it's pretty likely, given th' situation." Krushnor lowered his other hand and placed it on his shotgun.  
     Kashmere shook his head, "Oh goodness no! I would _never, ever_ do that. Especially not to you. I'm not stupid. You'd splatter my organs across Pandora with your shotgun."  
     Krushnor looked down at his shotgun, his shoulders bounced as a proud chuckle escaped him.  
     Kashmere continued, "Really, it's that guy, Tim, who's at fault here. See, _I_ was told that we were scouting for the train for you. We'd be down the tracks from you guys so we can tell you when the train's coming. Turns out, that bastard wanted to use me to get the loot for himself!" Kashmere made a surprised gasp for effect, " _Un—_ believable. Right?! I tried telling him that the loot belonged to you, an' that it was only fair _you_ get it because you've worked so hard to plan the raid. But this asshole, this downright _shitlord_ , threatened to kill me if I didn't help him! So I had to jump on the train with him an' act like I was helping. Loaderbots came after us an' they killed Tim an' I got away, but--" He gestured to the bullet wound in his shoulder, "--That happened. Point is, the loot's still on the train, an' the longer you stand here and interrogate me, the further away it's getting."  
     A deep groan of disbelief sounded from Krushnor. He leaned down closer to Kashmere, the bones on his helmets clinking against each other like wind chimes, "How's I suppose to believe you?" He asked.  
     Kashmere gestured to the dirt around him with both hands, "I don't have the loot. Think if I was really after it, I'd have it, right? Probably would've used Doctor Zed's shit machine by now, too."  
Krushnor stood back straight and took a step back, "I don' believe ya'! Its in 'yer pockets, I bet!" He looked over his shoulder at the gang of bandits, "Two of 'yees go an' search 'em 'fer it!"  
     Two psychos hopped from the technicals, letting out cries of acknowledgement as they ran to Kashmere. Grabbing him by the arms, they hoisted him painfully to his feet. Kashmere let out a cry of pain as his injured arm was yanked, "Ow! Watch the arm, cumrags!" He snapped at them.  
     The bandits ignored him, patting their hands against his pants and vest and overturning his pockets.  
     "Nothing..." One repeated with a quiet voice. The other turned to Krushnor and repeated it with a shout. The two shoved Kashmere down to the ground before returning to the technicals.  
     "See? Told you. I don't have it." Kashmere shrugged as Krushnor turned back towards his technical, "Now you can just jingle your bone-chime ass outta here."  
     Krushnor stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at Kashmere, "Quit wastin' my time, skaglick!" Before Kashmere could reply, Krushnor brought his shotgun forward and shot at Kashmere. The blast caught Kashmere offguard and he cried out, but the small bursts of metal deflected off his shield and fell down to the dirt. Krushnor lowered his shotgun and let out an agitated groan before climbing back into the technical's turret. The bandits let out excited cheers as the technicals sped off, coating Kashmere with the dust from their wheels. Kashmere wiped the sand from his mask lenses and watched them for a short moment before sliding down onto the ground on his back. He reached a tired hand under the vending machine and pulled the dollar bill from under it before sticking it into his hat, "...So glad no one ever checks my hat." He told himself, grinning with relief.

     As the technicals disappeared, Kashmere's head turned to the entrance of the pitstop building and the idea of a health vial hidden inside crept into his mind. He struggled to his feet, and cradling his injured shoulder, made his way towards the entrance. Boots stepping over the blown-in door, Kashmere stepped inside the sand-blown building. The cash register sat on the floor near the front counter, the money tray pried open and empty. Blood splattered the empty shelves and the floor. A sudden foul stench of rot filled Kashmere's nose and he cringed with disgust. Hidden behind the counters was the corpse of what Kashmere assumed was the pitstop owner. His head hanged low in his lap. His clothes red, and the pool of blood underneath him dried to a reddish brown. Flies buzzed around his colour-drained face.  
Kashmere stared down at the corpse in pity, "Damn...that sucks. Bet you coulda fixed the vending machine, too." In the pitstop owner's lap sat an ECHO Log. Kashmere's head cocked to one side as he stepped over to it, picking it up from the ground and wiping the blood from it on his pant leg. His finger hovered over the play button when he was interrupted by the sound of another technical from outside. His head jerked over his shoulder towards the window and he clipped the ECHO Log to his side before scrambling over the counter for cover. Sliding on his knees beside the window, he peered out towards the train track. A single, familiar technical pulled over near the Catch-A-Ride station. Kashmere felt a wave of relief as he saw Clement pulling himself from the technical's cockpit.  
     Kashmere hoisted himself over the windowframe of the glassless window, "Clement! My best-est friend, 'bout time you showed up!" He greeted with arms outstretched.  
     Clement's head raised towards Kashmere as he let himself drop from the technical onto the ground, "I lost you guys back at the canyon. Thanks for not letting me fall to my death, too, by the way. That was real nice of you."  
     "Thank you, I know." Kashmere let out an exhausted breath as he leaned against the technical, his hand reaching back up to his shoulder for support.  
Clement's head lowered as his gaze shifted onto the blood-soaked shirt stretched and wrapped around Kashmere's shoulder, "So, what happened? Where's Tim?"  
     "Oh, Tim!" Kashmere stayed quiet for a moment, thinking up an excuse which he masked with exhausted, pained breaths, "Clement...it--it was a bloodbath..." Kashmere raised his head to face Clement, "The worst thing I've seen in the twenty-one years I've been alive!"  
     Clement stared back with his gun drooped to his side at the sheer suspense that overcome him, "Wh-what happened?"  
     Kashmere shook his head with distraught, "The l-loader bots, man! They came after us as soon as the alarm went! No regard to the Hyperion passengers...they murdered everyone! We didn't even get time to rob them!" Kashmere fell into Clement's shoulder, sobbing, "Tim begged them to let him go...screamed, even! But they just...his guts...all over the floor!"  
     "I'm gonna throw up—don't describe anymore." Clement ordered as he pushed Kashmere off of him.  
     Kashmere grasped the technical behind him for support, "I—I don't think I can ever look at trains the same way ever again. I'm scared of trains now, Clement! Absolutely terrified! When I hear 'choo choo' I shit my pants!"  
     "So then what? What happened to you?" Clement asked, gesturing at Kashmere's shoulder.  
     Kashmere glanced down at it, "Oh, I was just shot. It's fine." He answered with his usual nonchalant tone which brought an amusing, confused quietness from Clement, "You seem a bit too _upbeat_ for that to be true."  
     Kashmere stared back with his hand up in a shrug, "What'd you mean?--I _was_ shot. You can _clearly_ see that.--Are you dumb?"  
     Clement answered after a sigh of annoyance, "I mean your _story_ , Kash!"  
     "Maybe I might've over-exaggerated? A tiny bit?" Kashmere sat up on the hood of the technical, wincing as his injured arm was forced to pull his weight. He began again once the pain subdued, "But most of it was true," He put one hand against his chest and the other in the air in a pledge, "I swear on my mom's life. But point is, Tim's dead, I got shot, an' we didn't get the loot."  
     Clement nodded in understanding, "Yeah, that's pretty clear. I just don't like being lied to."  
     "You can trust me—I haven't lied to you since I've known you." Kashmere told him, softening his voice to a friendlier tone.  
     "So we don't have the loot and there's only two of us left now." Clement concluded.  
     Kashmere nodded.  
     "So what'd we do now? Give up and go home?"  
     Kashmere shook his head and inched a bit closer to Clement, "No, no. We can think of something later. But first---" Kashmere pulled the knife from the strap of his boot and held it out to Clement, "--Since I saved you back at the canyon, would you do me a real solid and get the bullet outta my arm? Kinda hard to concentrate with a piece of metal lodged in there."  
     "Hell no!" Clement took a step back with disgust, "I can't even listen to you talk about people dying, how you expect me to take a fricken bullet out of your arm?!"  
     Kashmere pulled the knife back and cocked his head at Clement, "What's wrong with you?"  
     "I have a weak stomach. That's why I wanted to _drive_ , Kash!" Clement snapped back at him.  
     "Fine. We're both pussies." Kashmere concluded, setting the knife back onto his boot. He winced, trying to stay off his left arm as he crawled into the technical's turret, "Then drive my ass to Salted Lacerations, please." He suggested as he got into a comfortable position on the turret, "I know the town's doctor, she's pretty cool."  
     "Salted Lacerations?" Clement repeated with hesitation, "Isn't that a bandit town?"  
     Kashmere sighed with satisfaction as he leaned against the cushioned turret chair. Then looked down at Clement, "Yeah. Real nice, welcoming people. Got some quirks, though."  
     Clement stared back at him with uncertainty. One hand rested against the bars of the cockpit as he hesitated to go in, "Why do you wanna go to Salted? We could get mugged, or shot."  
     "Yes, please. I'd love that." Kashmere blurted out.  
     Clement cocked his head to the side, "To get mugged? Or shot?"  
     Kashmere decided to continue, looking down at Clement from the turret with a grin under his mask, "Both. At the same time. That's my kink."  
     "What is wrong with you?" Clement demanded, "I just asked a simple question--"  
     "Toss in a little scat into the mix." Kashmere connected his index and thumb fingers into a circle and let out sounds of satisfaction.  
     Clement stayed quiet for a short moment before letting out a quiet, "...Ew."  
     Kashmere let out a laugh at Clement's reaction, "Alr _ii_ ght, I'll stop dicking around. Just drive to Salts and save me from bleeding out." Clement hoisted himself into the driver's seat and started the engine, "If we get mugged, it's on you."

 

  ───── $$$ ─────

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thnx agin 4 read i'm rly like writing dis my first fic pls this is dedicated to my friend Al his birthday is today please like and subscribe and comment "happy birthday al" thank you very much I'm very happy to be a part of the same minecraft server pewdiepie plays on :)


	3. It's Always Sunny On Pandora part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Handsome Jack and Rhys have hard sex just so I get a lot of hits. Meanwhile, Kashmere and Clement visit the good doctor.

───── $$$ ─────

** SALTED LACERATIONS **

**It's Always Sunny On Pandora (part 3)**

 

 

The technical buckled over a large rock, forcing Kashmere's sleeping eyes open as his injured arm smacked against the turret railing. He cried out, clenching his arm with his muscles tensed, but the sound of the engine sputtering distracted him from the pain. Struggling to sit upright, Kashmere regained his usual posture, and as if he totally was not about to cry because his arm hurt so bad, Kashmere asked, "What's up with the engine?"

Glancing up at Kashmere from the driver's seat, Clement answered, "It's been like that for a while. Probably gonna explode or something, but whatever."

"I hope it does. That'd be sick." Kashmere's eyes shifted to the ECHO Log from the pitstop that fell to the floor while he slept. He leaned down, picking it up and wiping the dust from the screen. He clipped the ECHO Log onto his belt and turned his head to the familiar sandstone formations that ran along the sides of the road.

The road's asphalt had been long replaced with dirt, littered with yellow patches of grass and dry brush that scattered up the slopes of mountains.

A rusted sign stuck from the ground, the distance to Salted Lacerations still legible underneath the gang symbols and graffiti. Sun glares reflecting off the sign caught Clement's eyes.

"Five more miles, Kash." Clement called up to his friend, "Did your arm fall off yet?" His voice was barely audible over the sound of the sputtering engine.

"Oh yeah, hours ago." Kashmere snickered as his weak fingers pulled the fabric of his bandage back. The stringy mess of drying, brown blood made Kashmere's nose crinkle in disgust and he pushed the fabric back into place.

Clement propped one arm against the window frame of the technical as he spoke, "Y'know, I've been kinda thinking. Krushnor's a bandit leader, and bandit leaders got loot stashes."

"Wow, that's brilliant." Kashmere was barely listening to Clement, his fingers were still pressing the fabric on his shoulder in place.

"Maybe we can try our luck with that, huh?"

Kashmere raised an eyebrow at Clement, "--What?"

"Y'know, since the train heist didn't work."

"We couldn't even pull the train thing off, an' you wanna go an' do something even _harder_?" Kashmere asked with utter disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah. Why not--?" Clement was cut off by Kashmere's abrupt laughter. His joy was short-lived as his laughter caused more waves of pain through his shoulder.

"Since you obviously forgot: on our last heist one of us _died_ an' the most essential-an' notably sexy-member of our bandit squad got shot."

"Well, I..."

"An' I'd probably end up doing all the work again, too. You'll just make up another dumb excuse to not do anything." Kashmere continued to tease with a shit-eating grin spread on his face.

"I don't like violence! Or-or shooting people, or anything weird like that!" Clement snapped back, "And I _helped_. I drove the getaway van." He gestured to himself with tremendous pride.

"--Almost drove it off a cliff." Kashmere laughed.

Clement fell quiet for a short moment, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He straightened himself, "There really wasn't _any_ money on that train?"

Kashmere fixed his hat into place, "No. None."

"Then I'm gonna go after Krushnor's stash." Clement stated, "You can pass if you want, but I'm gonna."

Kashmere's eyes drooped to the floor for a moment before he glanced back up at Clement, "Why are you so set on killing yourself? I thought we were friends..."

In confusion, Clement turned his head to Kashmere, "...What does me 'killing myself' have to do with our friendship?"

"Uhh... 'cause then it wouldn't exist? Idiot."

"I appreciate your compliments, _friend_ ," Clement snapped back at Kashmere, "but maybe _you_ don't need any money right now, but I do. I wish I was in your place, doing bandit stuff for shits and giggles, 'cause then I wouldn't _need_ a reason to be a bandit."

"You think I'm a bandit for _shits an' giggles_?" Kashmere creased his eyebrows in offence, "... 'Cause you're totally right."

Clement refused to respond, and his quietness made Kashmere's foot nervously tap. He glanced to the side of the road, biting his lip in thought. Fingers raised to his hat and running along the edges of the rim, Kashmere asked, "Clement, theoretically, if I _did_ have money on me an' I was keeping it from you, what would you do? Just-outta curiosity."

Clement had to think for a moment, "I'd... probably kill you, then spend the next few hours crying."

"Oh."

Clement shifted in his seat, setting his other hand onto the steering wheel and keeping his gaze on the road. Raising his hand to the back of his neck, Kashmere finally decided to break the silence between them. "Salts...uh...isn't really a bandit town. It just has a bad reputation."

"Huh..." Clement's surprise in the conversation shift was heard in his tone, but he went along with Kashmere, "Why? What happened?"

"Well, everyone's kind of a dick..." Kashmere explained, "That's 'cause most of them were DAHL convicts. They escaped the mine the town was built by, then took it over." Kashmere relaxed in his seat and stared out at the scenery of rocks and brush, "Now bandit leaders just use it for their business an' to get more guys in their clans."

"And no one tried to take it over?" Clement questioned.

Kashmere shrugged, "No, not really. Maybe a little bit before, but not since The Mistress basically bought the town."

" _The Mistress_?" Clement turned his head to Kashmere, "Honestly, the longer I hang around bandits, the more I think Jack was right..."

Kashmere sat up in his seat, wide-eyed with disbelief, "You don't know The Mistress? Holy crap, you're really behind on bandit-gossip. She's this drag queen-calls herself the 'hottest' bandit on Pandora-which, honestly, I'm more deserving of that title." Kashmere explained, "But she's got trades for some real illegal an' shady stuff, got almost all the gang leaders over here working for her. She's even got human trafficking as a hobby, too. She runs deals with town mayors. They'd pay her to keep Hyperion away from their towns, but only reason Hyperion didn't mess with them was 'cause The Mistress was selling the town's people to them for slag experiments. Basically an unlimited supply of test subjects."

"Hyperion doesn't do slag experiments anymore." Clement pointed out.

Kashmere shrugged, "Yeah, so I guess The Mistress doesn't really need the towns now, then."

The technical was beginning to slow down as they passed a welcome sign to the town, with the original population number crossed out in red paint, and replaced by an abruptly lower number. The entrance to the town came into view, barricaded by car tires and guarded by two heavily-built bruisers with shotguns in their grasps.

The technical finally gave out, and Kashmere raised an eyebrow at the bruisers, "Huh...that's new."

Clement kept his hands on the steering wheel as the bruisers approached, "What seems to be the problem, officer?"

One of the bruisers stepped up to Clement's window and shoved his shotgun into his face, "'Ya gotta pay t'get in. Fifty per person."

"I don't think this is legal."

Kashmere's head turned to the front entrance, and his interest peaked at the sight of a cash box sitting beside the bruisers' two lawn chairs.

As Kashmere painfully struggled from the turret seat, Clement continued speaking to the bruisers.

"Are you authorized to be here? I need to speak to your superior. I'm a free inhabitant, and--" The bruiser pressed his shotgun under Clement's chin.

"We're bandits, not cops. Dumbass." The first bruiser mentioned while the other snickered behind him, "An' we're _autorized_ to be here. Th'mayor himself told us 'ta stand out here an' harass people."

"Really?" Kashmere asked as he walked back to the technical with one hand fixing his hat into place. A hundred dollar bill stuck out from his hand, and he glanced down at it with wide, surprised eyes, "WOW! A hundred dollars! Where'd that come from?" He asked, then grinned and held the dollar bill out to the bruiser, "By the way, _love_ what you've done with the entrance. Really adds to the atmosphere."

Snatching the money from Kashmere's hand, the two bruisers stepped aside.

"The car just needs a spark plug." Kashmere turned to Clement as he pulled himself out of the technical, "An' maybe an entire new engine."

"Where did you get the money?" Clement glanced at Kashmere as they headed past the tire barricade. His eyes focused on Kashmere's hat, where a sliver of paper hanged out from underneath.

Kashmere glanced over his shoulder at the two bruisers. They walked back to their lawn chairs, setting their shotguns down while the other opened the cash box.

"--Just found it." Kashmere answered, gripping Clement's jacket as he sped his pace.

Clement followed behind, his eyes shifting to the dusty, concrete buildings layered in plywood and scrap metal. Patchy tarps hanged from the doors and windows, fluttering in the hot breeze.

As the two passed a man standing on the corner holding a sign that read _'_ _Selling_ _Used_ _Rum Ham 100k. NOT A SCAM_ _'_ , Clement's eyes caught onto a pair of The Mistress' bandits from across the street. Armoured with metal scraps and red goggles pressed against the fabric of their masks, the bandits leaned against the wall. Stitched into their shoulder pads and painted onto their rifles was a pink stiletto. One bandit turned to watch the other as he got frustrated over how he could not smoke his cigarette through his mask.

Kashmere's and Clement's attention turned to the heavy metal door of a building. A sign was nailed into the concrete that read, _'24/7 M_ _edical Clinic'_ accompanied by crude drawings of syringes and crossed out misspellings. A garbage bin was chained to the ground underneath the window with the words _'Free Biomedical Waste'_ written on it.

"This place doesn't look shady at all." Clement murmured.

Kashmere shrugged in response, "At least the bandits spell-checked." He grasped onto the latch just as the door swung open, hitting Kashmere against the face. He staggered backwards, holding his nose as a man stepped outside, accompanied by the clinic's doctor; a young, petite woman with tied dark hair, a cybernetic arm, and a face far too friendly for a Pandoran. She gave a warm smile to the man, "Stapling your urethra shut does _not_ stop painful urination, just for future reference."

"Thank you _so much_ , Clara. I'll remember that for next time." The man pressed his hands together with gratitude before continuing on his way.

Clara's attention turned to Kashmere, who was rubbing the pain from his face with one hand, and a concerned gasp escaped her, "Kashmere! I'm _so_ sorry, did I hit you?"

"No, the door did."

"Yeah, that's...that's what I meant." Clara pulled Kashmere's hand away from his face and studied him for a moment before her blue eyes shifted to his shoulder, the fabric of his bandage kept together just by his dried blood.

"Yeah, I should probably fix that. What happened?"

"I uh--" Kashmere glanced at Clement, "How about I tell you later?"

Clara followed Kashmere's gaze and nodded before leading the two of them inside.

 

───── $$$ ───── 

 

A buzzing light bulb hanged overhead, illuminating the cracked, light yellow walls of the waiting room. A few chairs were set up against the wall, facing a coffee table with heaps of old magazines laying on it accompanied by a calico goldfish circling its bowl.

Kashmere frowned at the Dr. Zed machine in the corner of the room as the three of them headed to the office. Clara held the heavy, wooden door open for the other two as they walked in. Medicine shelves lined the walls, almost entirely looted. An examination table sat in the middle, with a desk littered with crumpled sheets of paper and dismantled shield parts. Kashmere struggled onto the examination table and set his ECHO Log down beside him as Clara searched her desk for a medical kit.

Eyes shifting to Clement, Kashmere watched his associate rummage through the medicine shelves.

"Do you have anything for 'Skull Shivers?'" Clement looked over his shoulder at Clara.

Clara set her medical kit down beside Kashmere and looked at Clement with concern, "I'm sorry, I ran out a few weeks ago. There's aspirin, if you'd like." She grabbed a bottle from her desk and handed it to Clement before returning her focus on Kashmere.

Clement glanced down at the bottle in his hand for a short moment before setting it aside.

Snapping latex gloves onto her hands, Clara began examining Kashmere's bullet wound. A glow radiated from her cybernetic eye, the iris shifting in size.

"Oh-good, it didn't hit your collarbone." She began to cut away at the fabric around Kashmere's shoulder. Kashmere watched as she peeled the fabric back, leaving gooey, brown strands that snapped the more Clara pulled. Groans of disgust escaped Clement and the two of them glanced at him as he leaned against the wall.

"Oh-oh God, I can smell it through my mask..." He mumbled, with one arm pressed against his abdomen, "That's disgusting..."

"Really? I think it's pretty sexy." Kashmere joked, and Clara nudged him with her elbow.

"Are you okay--?" Clara asked.

"--Where's your bathroom?" Clement's voice trembled.

"Uh-just down the hall, to your right."

Before Clara could barely finish, Clement hurried out of the room.

Kashmere laughed, "Oh, jeeze, what a puss. Y'know when we were still in Krushnor's gang, he threw up 'cause someone showed him a paper cut!" Another laugh escaped him, but Clara's sudden look of disappointment shut him up.

"You're using him, aren't you?" She declared.

Kashmere's grin faded from his face, "Um...not anymore, no."

Clara let out a sigh and tossed the old, dirtied bandage to the side.

"C'mon, Clara! This time I _actually, really, seriously_ had to."

"What happened to your _second_ friend you told me about over the ECHO? Tom, was it?" Clara questioned, filling a syringe with sedative.

"Tim? Oh, he's uh... still in the train... all over the walls."

"That wasn't your fault, was it?" Clara pressed the needle point of the syringe into Kashmere's skin.

He winced before speaking, "Not entirely."

Clara pulled the syringe away from Kashmere's shoulder and a tingling numbness ran down his arm.

"Clara, you're smart. What should I do?" Kashmere asked, "Clement probably knows I have _some_ money from the train, at least, an' he's still sticking with me, an' it makes me feel even worse, an' now he's gonna go after Krushnor _again_! An' I feel bad about the whole thing-why do I always gotta get myself waist-deep in shit?"

"Give him the money, then." Clara answered, "And get a _real_ job. Settle down, find a girl, have kids so I can _finally_ be an aunty..." She trailed off.

Kashmere rolled his eyes, "That's _lame_." He shifted his numb arm, "I can't do that anyway. I _told_ you."

Clara pursed her lips together and readied her pair of tweezers. Her eyes shifted to the ECHO Log sitting beside Kashmere, "Would you mind if I played this?--Is your arm numb?"

Kashmere nodded, "I don't care, an' yeah, it is."

Clara pushed the play button on the ECHO Log before she began to dig out the bullet from Kashmere's arm.

The ECHO Log buzzed and static erupted on the screen before the distraught face of the pitstop owner came into view. Kashmere raised an eyebrow and pulled the ECHO Log closer towards him.

The pitstop owner gave nervous glances to the side as he spoke, his shakiness distorting the audio, _"_ _Whoever finds this ECHO log, I'_ _m gonna write_ _an address on the back. Please-_ please _send it there._ _It's for my girlfriend,_ _Aelice--_ _"_

Kashmere and Clara exchanged glances as they listened.

_"--_ _He told me he planned to have every 'bandit' in Salts dead by the end of the year. I told hi_ _m I didn't want to be a part of this kinda stuff, and so I was gonna cut off my Catch-A-Ride and not give fuel to his guys."_ A nervous laugh escaped the man, _"He took it as I was_ absolutely _against his plan. He thought I'd go to_ _the Mayor,_ _Pearson, about it."_

"Y'know, I love how in these kinds of things, they don't _ever_ say names," Kashmere interrupted, "They just use pronouns. It's like they're purposely trying to make suspense--"

"Shh!" Clara snapped at him.

The man on the ECHO Log continued with his voice cracking with each word, _"You_ know _I don't care to be apart of this kinda stuff,_ _Aelice_ _._ _I just--"_ The sound of the door being forced open caused the man's eyes to widen with horror. Gunfire erupted from the ECHO Log, and just after a bullet tore through the man's head, the screen filled with static.

Kashmere and Clara sat quiet for a moment before Clara broke the silence, "That was a bit more depressing than I hoped it would be..."

Kashmere turned the ECHO Log over, staring at it's bare back, "Someone should've told him to write the address down _before_ recording himself."

The tweezers latched onto the bullet, and Clara tugged it out. A gush of blood poured out along with the bullet, and Clara plugged the hole up with a rag with one hand while she set the bullet aside with her other.

"Who was he talking about? The Mistress?" Kashmere questioned.

Clara finished her work with a health vial, "Most likely."

"Wow," Kashmere answered, "An' to think I used to look up to her ' _gen_ _d_ _er non-conformity._ Very inspiring. Be yourself."

"You've missed quite a bit last week," Clara began, "Bandits keep targeting my supply caravans. Not just mine, everyone who runs a business here is getting raided."

Kashmere squinted his eyes at her, "Wow, assholes. What's their problem?"

Clara shrugged and tossed her gloves aside, "No one knows, but they're doing it to caravans which held _no interest_ to them before. We have to pay for those caravans, we have to pay for the damage the bandits do, _and_ we all still have to pay Pearson rent, with _nothing_ to make money off of. It can't just be bandits. No bandit steals medical supplies, Kashmere, they're not _that_ smart."

"It's The Mistress," Kashmere stated, "She doesn't need Salts anymore, it's just gonna be a burden to her now. She's tryna make it so Pearson can't pay her anymore."

Clara nodded, "That's what everyone thinks. I don't see the sense in it, though. If she didn't want the town, she could just cut the deal off straight-up."

"Yeah, well, we have to blame _someone_ , right? The Mistress is weird by default."

Clara stayed quiet for a moment. Her hands latched onto the medical kit and Kashmere flinched as she slammed it closed, "I'm not concerned with _who's_ trying to ruin Salts, I just don't want to keep turning people down because I don't have the things to treat them! I feel _awful_ , Kash..."

Kashmere stayed quiet for a moment, then his hand raised to his hat and he took it off. He presented the hat to Clara, the money sitting inside.

"--Kashmere, what're you doing?"

"Take it." Kashmere brought the hat closer to her, "Clement wanted to go after Krushnor again anyway. I'll just tag along with him an' rob him again."

"Kash--"

"Yeah, cash. Cold, hard cash."

Clara took a step back and glared at him, "I'm not taking that."

"C'mon, there's a thousand dollars in here! More like nine hundred, 'cause of the toll fee, but--"

"Kashmere, it's dishonest! You _robbed_ people for that!" Clara snapped back at him.

Kashmere rolled his eyes, "As if the bandits you treat didn't rob someone to pay you... Clara, c'mon! Do you like living here? I don't mind it that much myself. Buy yourself more meds. Give it to Pearson, let him pay off at least a _little_ bit to that drag queen! Free money, Clara. Comes with complimentary sweat an' dandruff."

Clara stood in silence, her conflicted eyes glaring at Kashmere, "... What about those two Prosperity Junction kids you were so worried about?"

"They're gonna be _fine_. I'll split some of the money with Clement, so it's not _totally_ robbing him, right?"

Clara waited a moment, her eyes darting between Kashmere and the money, "...Fine." She finally stated, taking Kashmere's hat from his hands.

A wave of relief came over Kashmere as he watched Clara setting the money into the bottom drawer of her desk, "This is the only time I'm taking your money."

Kashmere opened his mouth to speak when a sudden knock on the door interrupted them.

"A-are you guys done yet?"

Clara gave Kashmere a quick glance before shutting her drawer, "Almost!" She handed Kashmere his hat. He fixed his hat into place and followed Clara out into the hallway.

The hallway lead out to the clinic's living space. It was a small, compact room, with a scrappy couch and a coffee table fitted on top of a faded rug. To the side was a tightly packed kitchen with cabinets Kashmere was already raiding.

Kashmere stared at the two boxes of cereal in his hands: Eridi-Yums and Heli-Os, in complete distraught at which one to pick. Finally, he decided with the Heli-Os. He set the other box back into the cabinet and sat down on the couch beside Clement.

"Uh... Kashmere, would you like some _real_ food?" Clara suggested.

Kashmere presented the handful of sugar-coated cereal in his hand, "What's this called?"

"That's called diabetes in ten years."

Kashmere snickered at Clara's remark and leaned back on the couch.

The smirk was short-lived as Clement cocked his head at Kashmere, "Hey, Kash. Could I see your hat?"  
Kashmere's chest tightened and he turned to Clara with wide eyes. She returned his look of horror.

"Uh...yeah!" Kashmere raised his snapback from his head, then handed it to Clement. Maintaining his cool, Kashmere masked his worry with a fistful of cereal.

Clement's fingers traced the inside of the cap, "I _swore_ I saw something sticking out of it. When we were walking, remember?" He glanced up at Kashmere.

Kashmere shook his head, "Must've just been you." He snatched his hat from Clement's grasp and gave Clara another look, " _So..._ Krushnor." Kashmere grinned back at Clement, "I changed my mind, I'm gonna help you. Any ideas?"

Clement stared back for a moment, "...Oh! Uh... I was planning on sneaking in. At night, when they're all sleeping."

Kashmere nodded, "Good plan." He grabbed a tissue and folded it into four, "Clara, d'you have a pen or something?"

Clara patted herself down, then turned her head to the pen on the table beside them. She tossed the pen to Kashmere, who then began to draw on the tissue as best as he could.

"--If I remember right, this is kinda the layout of his camp." Kashmere stated as Clement watched over his shoulder.

"He has the whole camp guarded," Clement added, "Snipers and everything, remember?"

"There's a hole in the fence here--" Kashmere drew on the map, "--It's a loose plywood board. Unguarded 'cause none of them know about it."

Clement turned to Kashmere, "How do you know about it?"

Kashmere replied with a smile, "'Cause I'm the one who put it there." He looked back down onto the map, "We sneak in through there, it's a tight squeeze so don't be a fatass. He keeps his money in a safe in his room. The only problem is getting _in_ to his room."

"You were trying to rob him before." Clement stated.

Kashmere glanced back at him when Clara began to speak, "Kashmere, look in the Heli-O's box."

Squinting his eyes with confusion, Kashmere obeyed. He rummaged through the box, pulling out a gas vial with a fancy, colourful label that read 'Hyperion Happy Gas'. An idea lit up in Kashmere's mind and he smiled at Clara.

"It's a toxic gas, _HP23_ _1_ ," Clara stated, "It causes pulmonary edema if you breathe it in. Hyperion put it in to lower bandit numbers, but they didn't think about the kids who might like the cereal, too..." She let out a sigh, "Bandit masks only keep out smoke and dust. I'm not implying anything, though. I'm not a part of this."

"Clara, you're brilliant." Kashmere exclaimed, which brought a smile to Clara's face.

"Buy out the rest of the cereal, please? Then the box prize won't kill anymore children here, at least."

Kashmere tossed the gas up and down in one hand, careful not to press the activation button. He looked at Clement, "We'll gas all of them out, an' then go in for the loot. We'll pick up some gas masks on our way there, it'll be perfect."

Clement cocked his head at Kashmere, "How'd you expect to buy all this?"

Kashmere stood, setting the gas vial down onto the table, "Some _very_ generous toll collectors got us covered." He pulled the stolen toll money from his pocket and waved it in front of Clement's face, who swatted it away, "See? We're set. You'll have your money soon, Clement." He set the money back into his pocket and picked up the gas vial before the two began to head out the door.

"--Kashmere." Clara called out.

Kashmere stopped and turned to her, "Hmm?"

"ECHO me when you're done, so I know you didn't kill yourself messing with Krushnor."

Kashmere nodded, "You'll hear from me in a few hours, then."

The door swung shut behind them.

 

───── $$$ ───── 

 

Helios shined overhead, accompanied by Elpis illuminating the cliff face the two bandits sat on. The technical stood quiet behind them, decorated by the toll collectors with crude words and explicit pictures. Opened boxes of Heli-O's were piled up beside the technical's tires.

Cold wind blew through Kashmere's coat, sending a shiver down his body. His gloved hands brought his pair of binoculars up to his eyes, staring down at the bandit camp with green-tinted lenses.

A tall, barbed fence surrounded the old DAHL outpost, layered with plywood and scrap metal. Bandits stood on makeshift towers, the lights of their sniper rifles scanning the sand below them. Inside, the light from a campfire glowed orange, a group of bandits sitting around it on lawn chairs. Kashmere turned his gaze to the main building, "There's a vent on the roof of his place. We make it there, we can put the gas in his air system."

Clement set the gas vials one by one in their duffel bag beside Kashmere, "How're we gonna get down there without being seen?"

Kashmere opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by the beeping of Clement's ECHO communicator. He pulled it from his belt and glanced down at the screen, "... I gotta take this, sorry."

Kashmere watched him stand up and walk a few steps away, bringing the ECHO to his face, "Hey, sweetheart. What're you doing up? Shouldn't you already be in bed?" His voice changed to a higher pitched, friendlier tone. Kashmere's eyebrows raised in realization as a child's muffled voice sounded in reply.

"Your head hurts?" Clement asked, "Daddy's _just_ about to get the money to pay that doctor to help you, okay? Then I _promise_ , no more bandit-stuff."

A faint laugh sounded from Clement when the child's muffled voice spoke again.

"And then we can get you a puppy. And a house on Eden-6. I need to go now, okay? Get some sleep. I'll be back _real_ soon."

Clement hanged up the ECHO communicator and stood quiet for a moment. Kashmere chewed his lip, then brought the binoculars back up to his eyes.

"...Sorry," Clement sat back down beside Kashmere, clipping his ECHO back onto his hip, "So-did you think of how to get inside?"

Kashmere let out a breath. He latched his fingers around his gas mask, pulling it over his face, "Let's just wing it..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thnx 4 read part 4 coming out soon I still didn't write that one rip hehehehehheehhhh pls leave gord reviowes and also pls like my fb page called Borderlands Gamers it posts really good borderlands memes from 2010 thank u and pls like and subsrice


	4. (1) It's Always Sunny On Pandora (final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kashmere and Clement get pooped on while this fanfiction is totally about Rhys x Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was gonna come out a few days earlier but stomach decided to get SICK and make me throw up >:^( Ban my stomach from the server please.

  ───── $$$ ─────  

**SALTED LACERATIONS**

**It's Always Sunny On Pandora (final)**

 

          Their boots skidded across the sand as the two bandits made their way to the bottom of the cliff, dodging the red lasers of the sniper rifles beaming down from the guard towers. Kashmere and Clement scrambled to their feet, brushing the sand off their pants. Hurried steps moved them to the camp's fence before the red lasers could take hold of them. Shivers of cold crept along their backs as they leaned against the scrap metal of the fence. They crept alongside it, watching the bandit in the tower above them.

Kashmere gave out a relieved sigh, seeing that the bandit was still facing out into the desert, "I think we're good." He whispered to Clement, "As long as he doesn't find our car."

"I think we should've planned this out better," Clement started in a hushed voice, "We're gonna get caught, they're gonna behead us and use our faces as masks and--"

"--Clement,  _shut up_!" Kashmere gritted his teeth, "Yeah, we're gonna get caught if you keep up that negative attitude. There's no room for negativity in this bandit camp."

Clement nodded, letting out a shaky breath and steadying himself, "The key to success is a positive attitude." He repeated to himself as Kashmere glanced around the corner where their entry way was. A loose plywood board was set against a hole in the fence, rattling as the wind nudged it.

Kashmere took the duffel bag from Clement and waved him forward. He followed Clement towards the board, then latched his fingers around its edge and propped it up, keeping the hole open.

Hesitantly, Clement dropped to the ground, inching and shuffling through the tight squeeze in the fence. Kashmere watched as Clement's lower half squirmed into the bandit camp.

"Is it clear?" He whispered out to Clement.

"... I think so." Clement answered, and Kashmere began to inch himself through the hole.

"--Wait, no!" Clement called back, and Kashmere froze in place, "There's a group of them sitting at the fire."

"...But did they see us?"

"No."

Kashmere creased his eyebrows, then pulled himself through the hole entirely. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

Clement kept his gaze set on the bandits at the bonfire, sitting on lawn chairs with their guns at their sides and bottles of rakk ale in their hands. A psycho bandit sat among them, attempting to skewer marshmallows onto his buzzaxe.

Kashmere waved Clement to follow, then crept behind the cover of a bandit hut, watching the bonfire crew.

"...I heard those three jerk-offs dipped with the train money, and that's why the boss's so on-edge today." One of the bandits stated.

"Wow, that's kinda rude of them." The other bandit took a swig from his bottle.

"Really? I thought it was 'cause The Mistress made him pay 'er a butt-load of money." The third bandit added, "He's got nothing in his stash now..."

Kashmere peered across the camp. The main building sat just at the other side of the opening. Light from outside shined through the slits of wood covering its windows. They turned back to the bandits at the bonfire, watching for their moment to make a run for it. Heart racing, Kashmere gave Clement a nod. His hand wrapped around the comforting handle of his pistol, then the two of them crept towards the outpost's main building, the crunching of the gravel under their boots thundering in Kashmere's ears. They ducked behind the wall, unaware of the psycho who caught a glimpse of them as he was reaching for another marshmallow.

Shaky hands latching onto the metal bars of the ladder, Kashmere began to climb up. Clement followed at his heels, and the two pulled themselves up onto the concrete roof.

Jogging towards the air vent, Kashmere dropped the duffel bag beside him. He pressed one hand against the vent, smiling at himself as he felt air being sucked inside between his fingers. Kashmere gestured for Clement to hand him the vials, and Clement pulled his gas mask over his face before unzipping the duffel bag. He handed the gas to Kashmere just as he was pulling the grail off. Hesitantly, Kashmere pressed down on the vial's trigger, then tossed it down the vent. The gas hissed out as it clinked down the vent's aluminum walls.

Both Kashmere and Clement began throwing the vials down as their minds raced with prayers that their plan would work.

Kashmere's hand reached for the bag just as the corner of his eye caught onto a psycho, buzzaxe raised and aimed for Clement.

"Watch out--!" He grabbed Clement's shoulder and pulled him back as the psycho's buzzaxe dropped down, slicing through Clement's sleeve. They both scrambled to their feet as a frustrated growl escaped the psycho.

The psycho cocked his head at the two, adjusting the grip on his buzzaxe, sticky with marshmallows, "The worst part is... where my axe touches ya you'll be sticky there forever."

He lunged at Kashmere, shoving him into the vent and rattling its aluminum walls. Kashmere sent his knee into the psycho's groin. Then another shove sent the psycho staggering back and tripping over the edge of the roof. The air in his lungs escaped with a squeak as he landed on his back. Both of them stood at the edge of the roof, training their guns on the psycho below.

"Shoot him!" Kashmere ordered.

"What—me?! I can't shoot anyone!" Clement answered.

"Then  _why's_  your gun out, dummy?"

"Why's  _yours_  out? You shoot him!"

Kashmere rolled his eyes and glanced down, only to see that the psycho already caught his breath and was scrambling towards the group of bandits around the fire, screaming and pointing towards the two intruders.

One of the bandits groaned, "Why're you making so much noise over there? What the Hell are you doing?! Shut up!"

"The roof! Traitors! Came back in time for the Slap N' Crap!" The psycho wailed, tripping over himself.

The three bandits snatched their guns from beside them and glanced up at the roof with cocked heads. Kashmere's shaky hand constricted around the handle of his pistol, and he found himself darting for the ladder.

"What—Kash!" Clement called to him as he grabbed the duffel bag.

"The plan failed, let's leave before--" Kashmere's sentence was cut short by the outpost's door bursting open. The psycho and three bandits turned their attention to the sickening, yellow fog that poured out from the building, and their colleagues stumbling out, hacking and coughing and pulling the masks from their faces. Chunks of red goop fell from their mouths with each cough. The psycho and his friends ran to their aid, completely disregarding the intruders.

Kashmere's eyes widened, "... Or, uh, maybe it'll still work..."

His eyes shifted to Krushnor pushing his way past bandits, harsh coughs ripping through his throat. He dropped to the ground, lying on his back as he wheezed his breaths. A bandit ran to help him up, only to be shoved to the side out of anger. Krushnor regained his strength and staggered to his feet. He brought his shotgun into his hands, waving it frantically as his eyes scanned the dying bandits, "Who's th'bastard who did this?! I swear, I'm goin'ta shit on yer corpse!" A groan escaped him and he turned to the bandits from the campfire, "One of yous call fer back-up!" He let out another wheeze as one of the bandits ran for the alarm.

Dumping the duffel bag empty, Clement followed behind Kashmere down the ladder. A siren echoed through the camp's speakers, making the two jump. They hurried behind the building towards a window free of plywood and scrap metal. Checking that their gas masks were set tight on their faces, Clement watched as Kashmere pushed the window open. A cloud of yellow seeped out from inside, fogging their view.

The intruders hoisted themselves through the window, landing on the floor with their boots clicking on the tiles. The fog muddled their sight, but as the two walked along the hallway, they could see streaks of blood running alongside them on the wall. Painful coughing echoed through the corridors from the bandits too slow to make it out in time.

Kashmere and Clement stopped at an intersection, and Kashmere glanced to his right, "This way, I think."

They began walking, passing a psycho ripping the mask from his face to let chunks of red fall from his mouth and plop to the floor. Clement gagged under his mask and turned away from the sight, focusing on Kashmere.

The two of them halted in front of the doors to Krushnor's room. With one hand holding the doors open, Kashmere stepped in. A queen-sized bed sat in the corner with only a mattress, and a TV buzzed in front of a desk with a heavy, metal safe sat underneath it. Clement cocked his head at Kashmere as he crouched down in front of the safe, fingers fiddling with the lock.

"Do you even know the combination?" Clement asked.

Kashmere laughed, "No, but I know Krushnor's a simple man."

His fingers shifted the numbers on the lock, and to his surprise, it popped free, "Wow, it really was just '1234...'" The safe swung open, and their eyes widened at the heaps of cash laying inside.

"There's..." Clement crouched down beside Kashmere, "There's gotta be at least a thousand in here."

A frown formed on Kashmere's face under his mask, "Yeah, only a thousand."

Clement let out a laugh in relief, "This is perfect, Kash. Y'know, I'm gonna be honest. I probably wouldn't of gotten this far without you."

"Calm down, we're not done yet." Kashmere took the bag from Clement and pulled it open. He counted the stacks of money as he dropped them into the bag, "You'd think a warlord like him would have more money than this."

"Who cares? It's enough." Clement answered.

Kashmere zipped the bag closed and slung it over his shoulder. He turned to Clement, "I'm thinking we leave the same way came from, through that hole in the fence."

Clement nodded, "That'd probably be our best bet yeah. But, uh... could I hold the bag?"

Kashmere ignored him and headed back out to the hallway. Clement stared at him for a moment, his eyebrows creased under his mask before following.

They crawled back out from the window, closing it behind them. The siren blasted overhead, piercing through their eardrums and almost blocking out the sound of a technical engine. Bright headlights glowed through the slits of the camp's fence. Tires screeched to a halt at the camps entrance, and a band of marauders pulled themselves from the technical. The pink stilettos painted on their guns reflected off the technical's headlights.

Kashmere peered around the corner at the marauders, unaware of the tiny red dot set on the back of his cap.

"Kash--!" Clement grabbed Kashmere and yanked him to the side just as a sniper bullet whizzed past, clipping the edge of his ear. Kashmere yelped in surprise, bringing a hand to the blood dripping down his face. The two shifted their gaze to the sniper tower at the camp's perimeter. The silhouette of the bandit reloaded, then aimed again. They made a run for it towards the hole in the fence. Their panicked steps caught the attention of the marauders, and they were soon greeted with a fury of bullets. Ducking behind the cover of a road barrier, they caught their breaths as the sound of gunfire hammered into their ears.

Kashmere pulled the pistol from his holster and gripped it with white knuckles. He glanced at Clement's SMG.

Clement shook his head, "I—I can't..."

Kashmere let out an annoyed sigh, " _C'mon_ , Clement! Be useful at least once!"

"I—what'd you mean?! I just saved you from that sniper!"

Kashmere peered over the side of the barrier, releasing a few shots from his pistol into a marauder's shoulder. Clement grasped onto his SMG and followed Kashmere's lead, letting bullets fly from his gun. They lodged themselves into a bandit's chest, and the bandit staggered and fell to the ground. Clement let out a panicked breath and pulled himself back under cover.

"I just—that guy—is he  _dead_?" He gagged, "I think I might throw up..."

Kashmere ignored him and continued shooting. His attention turned to a bandit hut beside him only a few meters away.

"If we run, we can make--" Kashmere was interrupted by a stun grenade landing right near their feet. The two of them yelped and ducked away as the stun grenade beeped, and a blast of light burst through their surroundings. The ringing in Kashmere's ears drained out the marauder's voices. Whiteness drenched his sight, and pain throbbed through the folds of his brain. The beeping of his shield crept into his ears as bullets tore into its protective forcefield. His vision gradually faded back, and Kashmere realized he was standing right in front of the gunfire. He scrambled behind the cover of the bandit hut and looked over his shoulder at Clement cowering behind a stack of metal DAHL crates. To Kashmere's left was the camp's entrance where the reinforcement technical was parked, fully running, and behind the marauder's backs. He glanced down at his shield, realizing it was practically destroyed by the bullets. Kashmere bit his lip in thought, and gave one last glance to Clement. They caught eyes for a short moment.

Kashmere adjusted the duffel bag onto his shoulder and scrambled for the technical.

Frantic steps skidded to a stop, and just as Kashmere was about to get into the driver's seat, a shotgun blast echoed through the camp. Sharp, excruciating pains shot up from the holes the shotgun pellets tore through his leg. He let out a scream, dropping his pistol and kneeling as blood poured down onto the sand.

"Where ya think yer goin'?" Krushnor's voice shouted from inside the camp. Kashmere looked up at him with teary eyes, then grasped his pistol and aimed it with a shaky grip. Krushnor laughed at Kashmere's state. The marauders turned and trained their guns on Kashmere when Krushnor raised one hand, "Quit shootin'! I wanna kill him myself."

The marauders gave each other unsure looks, then finally lowered their guns.

Kashmere's eyes shifted to the drum of gasoline sitting next to the warlord, "Oh, jeez... really?"

He struggled to aim his gun at the barrel, "I bet a smart... c-cool dude like you got some big, scary plan on how you'll kill me." He struggled to speak through the pain in his leg.

Krushnor grunted and lowered his shotgun, "I wus gonna shoot ya, in th'gut or somethin' so yous can watch yourself bleed out. Then, I wus gonna shit on yer corpse, like I said I wus gonna do--" He froze as Kashmere's pistol fired. The bullet whizzed past him and towards the barrel, just missing it. Kashmere cursed, and Krushnor let out a laugh, "Wus that suppose 'ta hit me?" He asked. Kashmere let another shot towards the barrel, only to have his shakiness throw the bullet off.

Krushnor raised his shotgun, "Shoulda just ended 'ya back at the train--" He was cut off by the sound of an SMG and the gasoline drum exploding in a fury of flames. Krushnor was shoved off his feet by the explosion, and the flames licked the edges of his clothes, shifting onto his body and engulfing him. He let out a scream as he attempted to pat the flames out, cooking alive in his own scrap metal armor. The bandits stared at him in shock, and that's when Clement scrambled towards Kashmere. Noticing Clement, the bandits turned, and a flurry of bullets shot towards the two as they scrambled into the car. Kashmere hoisted himself into the back with the duffel bag, and Clement ducked into the front seat. The engine growled, drowning out the gunfire, before the technical sped out of the camp, leaving the marauders behind.

Kashmere let out a breath as the camp grew smaller in the distance. He slumped his head against the technical, letting his eyes close for a moment, "... Holy shit, dude..."

"Kash?" Clement called out from the front, "Did you die yet?"

"I wish." Kashmere called back, keeping his eyes shut.

Clement's breath came out shaky, and his knuckles turned white around the steering wheel, "Never again, Kash. I'm never doing this again. All those people, and how Krushnor just burst into flames, and how his skin sizzled, and the smell, and I think some of that gas got through my mask 'cause I'm starting to get a sore throat, and oh my God..."

Kashmere took another glance at his leg, seeing the pellets tore all the way through and leaving it a bloody mess of flesh. He let out a tired sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead, "Is there a first aid kit or something in here? That'd be nice to have right now."

Clement checked the glove box, rummaging his hand through, "...No, I don't think so."

Kashmere let out a defeated sigh and slumped his head back against the technical.

His hands moved to the jacket he wore, and he pulled it off himself. Disgusted by the sight of his leg, Kashmere wrapped his jacket around it as tight as he could, hoping it would be enough.

Leaning back, he thought for a moment, analyzing the events and weighing out the consequences. He had the money, he had the getaway vehicle, all that was left was to get rid of Clement.

"Maybe The Dust got some Zed machines laying around," Kashmere suggested, "We could stop at one of them, for a break or something."

After a moment of silence, Clement finally began again, "You left me out there."

"Uhh... left you out where?"

"You ran after the technical and left me getting shot at."

Kashmere clenched his jaw, "You're taking that a little too personally. I really had no other option."

Clement let out a sigh. He and glanced at Kashmere over his shoulder, "Could I just ask one thing from you?"

"Hmm?"

"Please don't screw this up for me."

Kashmere found his stomach churning, and he let out a grunt and covered his face with his cap, "It's tiring work trying not to bleed to death, so could you just lay off?"

To his surprise, the technical halted. Kashmere sat up, staring at Clement as he stepped up to the back of the technical. He reached in with one hand, grabbing the duffel bag before heading back to the front seat. Kashmere gave a nervous laugh, then laid back down once the technical began moving again.

  ───── $$$ ─────  

Elpis shined against the mountains surrounding The Dust, casting a silver glow across the sand. Headlights off, Clement drove the technical as slow and quiet as he possibly could, averting the attention of the bandit technicals that patrolled the area, racing past with loud engines and maniacal cheers.

Kashmere sat at the back of the technical, hands wrapped around his bare arms. He glanced down at his jacket still wrapped tightly around his leg, and thought about untying it and putting it on when the image of his leg bleeding out and falling off made him reconsider. Kashmere shivered again, bringing his hands up to his mouth and blowing warm air into his palms.

The technical stopped at one of the shacks sunken into the earth, with a fading gas station sign standing next to it along with a gas tank Kashmere figured was dried out by the bandits. The thing that caught Kashmere's attention was the Dr. Zed machine leaned against the wall of the shack, its red lights illuminating the shack's entrance.

Clement halted the technical next to the gas tank and pulled himself from the driver's seat. He stepped up to Kashmere, holding his hand out, "Give me your gun."

Kashmere cocked his head at him, "Excuse me?"

"I don't want you to shoot me after I fix your leg." Clement explained, reaching for the pistol at Kashmere's side.

Kashmere scooted away from his reach, "What makes you think I'll do that?"

Clement sighed, "Listen, I don't  _wanna_  be that asshole who's all like,  _'oh I can't trust you_ \--'"

"--Yeah, why  _can't_  you trust me suddenly?" Kashmere squinted at him, "When did I  _ever_  give you a reason not to trust me?"

"When you left me in Krushnor's camp and took the money with you." Clement gave a sharp answer, reaching for Kashmere's gun again.

Kashmere scooted further away from him, his eyes squinting into a glare, "I'm not giving you my gun."

Clement pulled back, crossing his arms, "Then you'll bleed to death, and I'll have the money to myself."

"Really?" Kashmere he let out a dry laugh, "Really?  _That's_  how you're gonna play it?"

Clement shrugged.

"Why does it matter anyway? Yeah—you'll have my gun 'till my leg's fixed, an' what's stopping me from just shooting you an' taking the money when you give it back?" Kashmere cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

Clement stayed quiet, and Kashmere nodded, "See? Pointless. Stupid. You're dumb."

"Then, I guess I'll keep it." Clement answered.

Kashmere froze for a moment, thinking his act over, "... Uh, no you're not."

"It's either you give me your gun so I can trust you, or you bleed to death." Clement stood with crossed arms, "It's not a hard choice, is it?"

Kashmere thought for a moment, then finally smiled and his reluctant hand reached for his pistol, "You got me in a box here, good job, but could I just unload it an' give you the bullets?"

"Yeah? Because you have more in your pocket?" Clement accused.

Kashmere held the pistol in his hand, staring down at his own name engraved into the grip. He groaned, then handed Clement the pistol, "This is bullshit, you know. I'm abnormally attached to that gun, an' if you even put a  _scratch_  on it, a  _fingerprint_ , I'll murder your ass."

Clement took the gun from him and set it between his belt and his pants. Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he turned and stepped towards the vending machine.

Kashmere's hand rubbed against the empty holster on his side with his eyes fixed on his gun set on Clement's belt.

As Kashmere sat in thought, Clement struggled with the machine, inserting the money just to have it be spat back out. Finally, the machine obeyed and dispensed three health vials. As Clement reached down for them, his eyes caught onto a pile of empty tin cans laying on the floor inside the shack, illuminated by the glow of a slot machine. Along with the cans were a few sleeping bags and cigarette butts, circling a snuffed out fire pit.

"Hey, Kash?" Clement grabbed the vials and stepped back to the technical, "I think people live here."

Kashmere scoffed, "Bet'cha wish you didn't take my gun now, huh?"

Clement didn't answer, and he hoisted himself into the back of the technical. He crouched down beside Kashmere, setting the health vials down onto the floor. He breathed out, then his trembling hands began to unfold the jacket around Kashmere's leg. The fabric peeled away, revealing a mess of blood and flesh, and the two of them looked away in disgust. Kashmere kept his gaze on the bland, desert surroundings as Clement's dryheaving filled the air.

Finally, Clement got a hold of himself and grabbed one of the vials. Kashmere winced as he stabbed the needle point into his leg, letting the serum inject itself into his bloodstream. Clement did the same with the other two vials until Kashmere's wounds closed up, and the skin grew back, leaving only holes in his pants outlined with old blood. Kashmere let out a laugh of relief, standing and brushing himself off. He did a small, shuffling dance of joy as Clement stumbled out from the technical. He staggered to the side of the shack and pulled his mask back to let the stream of disgust pour out.

Kashmere saw his chance. Grabbing his bloodied jacket, he hopped out from the back of the technical. He tossed the jacket onto the front seat next to the duffel bag. Quick steps brought him to Clement, and his hand reached for his pistol, but not before Clement turned and shoved him back. Kashmere staggered before falling down onto his backside.

"I knew it!" Clement shouted, bringing his SMG into his hands, "I knew it, you fucking asshole!"

Kashmere stared at him with wide eyes, then scrambled to his feet. He raised his hands in surrender, "Clement, c'mon. What're you doing?! Put your gun down!"

"Yeah?" Clement aimed his SMG straight at Kashmere, "Why? What other excuses do you have? You're trying to run off with the money—with  _my_  money!"

Kashmere clenched his teeth, then regained his focus, "... What?! No I'm not."

"You were trying to take your gun back." Clement brought the SMG's sights closer to his eye, "Why else would you do that unless you wanted to leave with the money?"

Kashmere's ribs constricted around his heart, "Yeah? You take my gun an' then tell me people are  _living_  here! 'Course I'd want it back. I don't think the people living here would like two assholes dicking around in their yard."

"Bullshit." Clement answered, "You killed Tim, now you're tryna do the same to me, huh? I might not know what I'm doing half the time I do anything, but I'm not stupid."

"Why're you talking about Tim? I didn't even kill him—he was a dick anyway. Remember how he always sent you gory pictures over the ECHO 'cause he knew it bothered you?"

"...Yeah, he was a bit of an asshole but at least  _he_  never tried to take the money! Y'know, like  _you're_  doing right now! What did you do with the train money? Gave it to your doctor friend to hold on to, I bet."

Kashmere squinted at him, "Y'know, you're so  _obsessed_  with me ripping you off, I'm starting to think  _you're_  the one trying to do that!"

Clement shuddered, " _What?!_  That's—you were just trying to leave with it!"

"Uh, no, I was just tryna get my gun back.  _You_  were the one who assumed. Y'know, when people suspect someone of doing something, it's 'cause they're the ones doing it themselves."

Clement glared through the sights of his SMG, "Stop trying to twist stuff. I know  _exactly_  what you're doing--"

"-- _'Let me hold it.'_  Remember when you said that? When we were robbing Krushnor? You've been trying to rip me an' Tim off from the start, I bet."

"I'm not--!"

"That's why you took my gun. You want me to be defenceless so it'd be easier for you to screw me over." Kashmere laughed, "Good way to twist everything around, making me look like  _I'm_  the one screwing  _you_ over. You're a real good con, y'know."

Clement gritted his teeth, "You left me in that camp and tried to run off with the money."

Kashmere froze for a moment, pursing his lips together, "...So, you're saying you're  _not_  trying to rip me off?"

"No—I'm not! And you--"

"--Well, if I'm not tryna rip you off either, then..." Kashmere creased his eyebrows, biting his lip in thought. He looked back up at Clement, "I think we got some misunderstandings to clear up. Put your gun down, give me back mine, an' I'll know  _I_ can trust you, at least. We can work it out, split the loot, an' go our separate ways."

Clement stood still for a moment, "... Y'know, for a second, I almost believed you--"

"What's this suppose'ta be?" The two of them were interrupted by an abrupt voice coming from behind them. They turned their heads to two marauders walking over, their assault rifles trained on Kashmere and Clement.

"Drop your gun." One of the bandits ordered. Clement stared back at the bandits, and his SMG fell from his grasp.

"What're you dumbasses doin' here?" The first bandit demanded, "Shouting at each other like a God-damn married couple, we could hear ya from a mile away."

"Listen, we don't want any trouble, we just stopped to use the vending machine, and--" Clement was interrupted by one of the marauders.

"You were using  _our_ vending machine?!" He shouted, "The shit in there's ours!"

Kashmere shrugged, "I don't think it matters, everything in it's digi-structed, so--"

"Ay! Shut up, hatboy!" The second marauder trained his gun onto Kashmere, and Kashmere clenched his jaw shut.

The first marauder glanced over to his friend, "What'd we do with 'em?"

"The fruity kid with the outdated hat's 'prolly worth a couple thousand to some freak." The marauder suggested.

Kashmere scoffed, "Oh! Uh, I'd make a bad slave. I'm lazy, physically weak, got an iron deficiency--"

The marauder laughed, "Yeah, you wouldn't be the workin' type."

"Oh!" Kashmere's eyes widened, "... I have AIDs."

The first marauder looked to the second, "Maggot farms, maybe? It's a lot cheaper than buyin' food."

His friend shook his head, "Nah. Spiderant bait. Maybe we could clear out the infestation with these two dumbasses."

Kashmere shuddered at the thought.

Clement gave a nervous laugh and raised his hands in surrender, "We'll just get outta here, then. We're very sorry."

As Clement spoke, Kashmere's eyes shifted to his gun still set under Clement's belt. He mapped out his every move, then found his hand snatching his pistol.

"--Hey!" The bandits shouted, and Clement ducked out of the way as their guns erupted towards Kashmere. He scrambled into the driver's seat, the bullets clinking off the technical's shell. Twisting the keys in the ignition, Kashmere slammed on the gas pedal just as the bandits were reaching in to drag him out. He shook them off, and the technical shot forward, covering them with sand. Kashmere's breath was ragged, and his eyes wide with panic. He glanced in the rear view mirror, seeing the bandits stagger to their feet and brush themselves off, only to turn on Clement. Fists and the butts of their guns were sent flying into Clement's gut, knocking him off his feet. Kashmere looked away, hearing Clement's pained screams with each blow. His finger pressed against the radio button, and he let music drown out the sound of the event behind him. Kashmere glanced at the duffel bag, relieved it was still there. He let out another breath, closing his eyes for a moment until the extreme guilt overtook him and wetness began to blind his vision. He slowed the technical, feeling a wave of nausea hit his gut. His hand raised to the ECHO device clipped to his ear and he dreaded hearing Clara's voice. Imagining the conversation between them, and Clara's disappointed tone, Kashmere lowered his hand. He turned the radio up and gave another glance in his mirror. The shack was distant now, but Kashmere could make out the bandits dragging Clement inside, and Kashmere looked away again. His imagination ran rancid with ideas of Clement's fate, and he forced the thoughts out of his mind and shook his head. Kashmere eased his foot down onto the gas pedal, heading down the road towards Prosperity Junction.

  ───── $$$ ─────  

It took the rest of the night for Kashmere to reach Prosperity Junction. One arm hanged from the technical's window sill, the last cigarette of a pack set in between his fingers. Kashmere brought it to his lips, taking a drag as a train rattled on the monorail alongside the road, shaking sand to the ground below. Sun beams glared off the welcome sign to Prosperity Junction, where a psycho's corpse hanging by his neck swayed in the breeze.

Kashmere slowed the technical as he reached the town. The streets were lined with shacks no different than the ones in Salts. Tarps were draped over the windows, the concrete walls worn down by years of sand. Kashmere shifted his gaze forward and glanced up at the clock tower, wondering if it even showed the right time. He halted the technical at the side of the road, where a brunette man stood by a grill adjusting the skag meat skewers as the smoke rose up and greased the creases of his face. Another man was with him, paying for one of the kebabs before walking over to one of the shacks lining the road and leaning against it to eat.

Kashmere let out a breath and tossed his cigarette out of the window. He unzipped the duffel bag at his side and recounted the money, taking out the extra and putting it in the glovebox, leaving exactly a thousand in the bag. Slinging the bag onto his shoulder, Kashmere pulled himself from the technical.

The man glared up at Kashmere as he stepped up to the grill, seafoam eyes shifting to the duffel bag.

"I'm gonna be honest, I wasn't expecting you to actually do it." The man stated.

Kashmere dropped the duffel bag onto the table next to the grill, "It's all there, Rudiger. I paid their debt, now would you leave them alone?"

Rudiger pulled the bag closer to him. His hand raised to unzip it when the prying eyes of the man eating his kebab made Rudiger shoot a glare in his direction. The man froze up, then turned away.

As Rudiger counted the money, Kashmere's eyes shifted to the unevenly cut bits of meat skewered onto the metal rods on the grill. His eyebrows knitted as he witnessed the smaller pieces sharing the same rod as the larger ones, "I don't wanna shit on your cooking skills, but do you really think they're gonna cook for the same time?"

"Every buyer's gotta sign a waiver saying I'm not responsible for food poisoning." Rudiger leaned forward on the grill, eyeing Kashmere, "What's in this for you? Why'd you help them?"

Kashmere squinted, "I don't think that's any of your business."

"I'm just curious. What are you? Helping out those kids by paying off their father's debt. You think you're a hero? Think that's gonna clear your conscience?"

Kashmere found himself chewing on his lip as he struggled for an answer.

Rudiger stepped out from behind the grill, tossing his butcher's knife down onto the cutting board, "How many people did you kill just to save those two little assholes How many did you screw over?"

Kashmere's mind forced the thought of Krushnor's gang and Clement away, "I think this conversation's gonna make you burn your kebabs."

Rudiger glanced at the grill, then his eyes shifted back to Kashmere with an intense glare. Eyes widening in panic, Kashmere barely had enough time to duck away before Rudiger's fist slammed against his face. He fell to the ground, hand raised to his face where an aching pain throbbed through his eye.

"Smartass is one of the most annoying personalities you could go for." Rudiger spat on the ground next to Kashmere's feet. He moved back to his food stand, zipping the duffel bag up, "I'll leave them alone. Piss off before I change my mind."

Kashmere groaned, staggering to his feet with his hand still covering his eye. He returned Rudiger's glare through teary vision and his hand reached for his pistol. Rudiger raised his eyebrows and cocked his head at him, before Kashmere decided against it and turned back to his technical without another word.

Kashmere pulled himself into the driver's seat, his hands shaky with adrenaline. He glanced out the window at Rudiger as he was taking the last few kebabs off the grill and turning the propane off. Kashmere imagined himself running out of the technical, drop kicking Rudiger into the sand, and saying some cool, witty comeback as Rudiger bled to death but decided against it and instead looked at himself in the rear view mirror. He pulled his hand away from his eye. The bruising eyelids shuddered as they struggled to stay open.

Kashmere glanced at Rudiger again, "What a dick..."

Images from the recent events played through his mind. It was supposed to be a simple train robbery, but Tim and Clement had to complicate things so much.

Kashmere forced the thoughts from his head and turned the keys in the ignition. He tossed the empty cigarette pack out of the window and eased his foot down on the pedal. The technical drove forwards down the road, heading to the outskirts of the town and back towards Salted Lacerations.

  ───── $$$ ─────  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't like the FINAL final. It's the end of like the first story of the series or whatever you wanna call it. I'll be writing more of these multiple part stories that continue off of this later. Hopefully I'll write them quicker than I wrote this one lole.

**Author's Note:**

> Thnx 4 read like and subscrib 4 more minecraft walkthroughs like this pls join my minecraft server @www.facebook.com/Borderlands-Gamers-275099129597332/


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